


Call Me Pretty, Call Me Yours

by zwow



Category: Eminem (Musician), Machine Gun Kelly (Musician)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Crossdressing, Feminization, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Top Eminem, brief delve into self esteem issues, kells cries during sex, kells wears a dress, like as fluffy as a good dicking can be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zwow/pseuds/zwow
Summary: Colson just wants to be pretty, wear dresses, and get fucked.
Relationships: Colson Baker | Machine Gun Kelly/Eminem
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Call Me Pretty, Call Me Yours

**Author's Note:**

> spoiler alert: he gets all three things he wants. unbeta'd so any typos and mistakes are mine

“How do you feel about this one?” Colson spins around in his sundress with his arms splayed wide. At this point, he’s made Em watch as he tried on at least ten dresses, and pretended not to notice his boyfriend’s attention slipping more and more with each one. He just needs to find the right one, and none of them have been it so far.

Em glances up, only pausing a second to draw his eyes quickly over Colson before turning back to his phone.

“I like the flowers.” He says dismissively, but Colson is already pulling the dress over his head. The sundress was nice, sleeveless and yellow with little white flowers, but it hung limply from Colson’s hips where the dress was made to hug curves. That had been his problem with the others, too, but he still held on hope he would find the right dress. One that fit exactly right and made him feel exactly how he wanted. Pretty.

Colson wanted to be pretty, to turn and face Em and have his boyfriend drop his phone immediately and fall to his knees begging to see what was under Colson’s skirt. He wanted to wear the dress outside, feel the sun on his skin, and know that anyone who saw him wouldn’t be able to resist staring at his long legs. He wanted to wear lip gloss and nail polish and his dress and feel Em stiffen in jealousy every time he noticed someone staring at Colson too long.

He wanted, simply, to be pretty. And the dress was a particularly important part of that.

It was difficult, though, to find a flattering cut and style when Colson is 6’4” with no curves whatsoever. He checks himself in the full-length mirror in their closet once more just to be sure. He’s been trying for weeks, buying anything and everything that looked like it might work, only to be disappointed every time.

Standing naked in his and Em’s closet, in front of the mirror, Colson looks at himself and shivers. He’s attractive. He knows that. He might even be hot to some people. He’s sexy, or at least that’s what Em tells him. But pretty? Colson doesn’t see it. After checking quickly to make sure Em isn’t looking, Colson fixes his bangs over his eyes and pouts his lips the way pretty girls have been doing to him for years.

It’s not the same, and Colson wonders if it ever will be.

Sighing, Colson picks up the last of the dresses he had to try on today, though it is the one he had the most hope for. It was a bubblegum pink skater dress with a deep V in the chest, and a skirt that was supposed to go down to a girls’ knees, but would barely reach Colson’s midthigh. When he’d seen it online, he’d gotten a rush because the model was flat chested and lanky, the closest a girl’s body type could come to his own, and she looked amazing in it. She looked pretty.

Now, pulling it over his head, Colson has butterflies in his stomach. Disappointment after disappointment and he’s finally made it to the one that could be it. Colson’s hopes are so high he can’t bare to watch himself put it on, so he closes his eyes and just takes a moment to feel the soft cotton dragging over his skin.

Once the dress is on, he takes a breath, steeling himself for the possible disappointment, and opens his eyes. He looks at himself in the mirror for a long moment then swallows hard. He looks fucking hot.

His legs are amazing, going on for miles underneath the skirt that teases something more under its hem. The way it’s cut gives him the illusion of a shape and the neckline dips into teasing territory. The pink fabric matches the blush crawling underneath his tattoos and up his neck. It’s exactly what he has been looking for. In this dress, Colson is as pretty as he’s always wanted to be.

Em sitting on the bed behind him long forgotten, Colson runs his hands over his body, over his narrow hips and flat chest, pausing quickly to lightly pinch his own nipples just to see them turn into hard nubs under the light fabric. He flits his fingers down his own thigh, playing with the hemline of the skirt and shivering every time he presses it up just far enough to catch a glance at the head of his soft dick.

Looking back into his eyes in the mirror, part of Colson wants to keep this special and quietly his own, only to be shared with his reflection and, on occasion, Em. But another part of him, the part that wanted, no needed, to be pretty in the first place, wants to wear the dress where everyone can see him. He wants to looks at himself in paparazzi photos with the dress on and Em’s hand in his. He wants everyone to see how pretty he is.

“Fuck.” Colson quickly drops the hem of the dress and looks back just in time to see Em’s phone tumbling from his loose grasp and clatter to the floor.

The last of the bangs have barely pattered when Colson finds himself pressed against the mirror he was just looking into, Em crowding tightly against him, running his hands possessively up and down Colson’s sides. Colson grins down at him.

“Do you like it?” He asks breathlessly. He doesn’t need to ask, the way Em dropped his phone, and the way his hands roam all over Colson’s body tell him as much. Em doesn’t speak, just continues feeling all over Colson in the dress, cupping his ass then moving to hold his hips and waist, following almost the exact trail Colson’s own hands had only a moment ago. 

Finally, Em looks up at Colson, his pupils blown out almost fully black with lust, “Do I fucking like it?” He mutters seemingly to himself, then goes right back to what he was doing. He leans in close to him, nosing along Colson’s chest and breathing in his heartbeat. His breath tickles and excites Colson down to his bones.

“You look so fucking hot.” Em rasps into Colson’s collarbone before nipping at it, millimeters from the neckline of the dress. The compliment rakes down his spine, but it’s not exactly what he wants to hear. He needs to hear the word from Em more than anything else in the world. He’d take that word, the one single word over food, and water, and fucking life right now. He’d die to hear it and even he knows that’s a little fucked up.

Em reaches a hand up to gently pet the side of Colson’s face, which he nuzzles into reflexively. Em is so good to him, so gentle to him, so perfect. As gently as it came, the hand leaves his face and trails lightly down his neck, pausing to rub the hickey he’d left last night.

Colson sighs and relaxes his body against the mirror, content to let Em touch him wherever he wants, however he wants. Em’s hand follows the neckline down to the point of the V and tenderly pushes the fabric to the side, making room for his hand to roam over Colson’s bare chest, massaging gently over his nipple.

“So gorgeous.” He whispers before pinching Colson’s nipple playfully. Colson almost can’t handle it; Em is working his way to what Colson really wants to hear and he doesn’t even know it.

“Please…” Colson groans when Em’s hand leaves the inside of his dress and continues its teasing trail down his side, back along his hips and waist, then curling around to the back to skirt around his ass. He pets over the small curve of Colson’s cheeks then smiles up at him with a sly grin.

“No underwear?” Colson just groans and rolls his head back to look at the ceiling so Em can’t see the blush on his cheeks deepen. He’s not embarrassed that he’d forgone underwear to try on his dresses, or embarrassed that Em is seeing it, nothing he hasn’t seen a million times. No, Colson is embarrassed because when he was beginning to try things on, none of his underwear felt pretty enough. Sure he had some sexy lace pairs, thongs that made him feel hot, but nothing pretty, and this whole thing was about being pretty, not sexy, or hot.

“Nothing sexy enough?” Em continues. “All those panties we’ve gotten recently and not one of them was sexy enough for you in this hot pink dress?”

Pretty, he wants to scream. Nothing _pretty_ enough. Instead, he just pulls Em’s head back by the short hairs on the back of his neck and kisses him deeply. He needs Em, and badly.

In this moment, Colson feels exactly how he’s wanted to feel for so long, even if Em can’t find the right word. He feels perfect and pretty and wanted, thanks to Em and the dress. Reaching up while they continue making out against the mirror, Colson cradles Em’s head with both hands, feeling his world between his palms. He tastes love and lust and mint toothpaste on Em’s tongue and _moans_. He wants to live with the taste of Em in his mouth, tongue steeped in his sweat, spit, and fucking cum. His knees are buckling just thinking about it.

“Em, let me… Let me.” He pulls away only a bit and gasps into Em’s mouth.

“Hm, Baby?”

His heartbeat is so far into his throat that he can barely breathe, let alone speak, so he just pushes Em gently away with a hand on his hip and falls to his knees in front of him. He wants this more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.

Somewhere in his lust-fogged brain, Colson realizes that’s what he thinks that every time they do this.

“Fuck…” Em groans before Colson even has him fully out of his pants and it makes him smile. Working quickly, Colson yanks Em’s sweats down to his knees, and wraps his fingers around Em’s fat dick. Even his long fingers struggle to wrap around it completely.

He takes it slow at first, jerking Em’s rock hard length at a snail’s pace until Em looks down at him expectantly. When their eyes finally meet, Colson leans in the last few inches and takes him into his mouth before relaxing his jaw, settling back on his heels, and letting Em take over.

Em sets a languid pace at first, slowly moving his cock in and out of Colson’s lax mouth. That’s when Colson feels himself starting to drift. It happens sometimes, when he and Em hit the right groove and Colson feels too good to feel anything at all.

He knows and can physically feel Em slowly building the pace and speeding up, that he’s curled a hand into Colson’s hair and is guiding his throat down onto him, but Colson doesn’t really _feel_ it. All he feels is disconnectedly good, great, amazing, so incredibly loved, and safe and taken care of he doesn’t need to feel what’s actually going on.

“So good, baby, such a good boy.” Em says above him, pace quickening further, and Colson preens. At this point he’s sure he’s practically purring. He’s a good boy. _Em’s_ good boy.

Colson’s dick, thus far untouched, bobs hard between his legs. His sensitive tip is leaking precum ono the skirt of his dress, and he couldn’t care less about the inevitable stain, but the friction from the fabric is just teasing enough to be distracting in his foggy state. Unable to help himself, Colson slides a hand under his skirt to wrap a loose fist around his dick. He doesn’t jerk himself off, his brain is moving too slow and fast all at once for that. Instead, he just curls his fingers and gently moves his hips back and forth into his hand when he has the occasional thought to do so.

Colson chokes when Em finally works him all the way down on his dick, struggling to breathe around the thick heat.

“Keep doing that, baby, keep going, you got it. I got you.” Em says when he sees Colson attempting to swallow around his thick cock. The hand he had in Colson’s hair lets go and moves down to gently massage Colson’s temple. Colson wants to lean into it, but he’s as far on Em’s dick as he can go, Em’s trimmed pubes tickling his nose every time he takes a measured breathe in.

He loves this, he wishes he could stay like that, even though there are tears running down his cheeks and spit and precum running down the sides of his mouth and undoubtedly soiling his dress, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

At some point Colson’s eyes fell closed, but he’s been too far gone to notice. Only when Em says, “Look at me, babe, I’m close”, does he even realize he hasn’t been looking at his boyfriend, only seeing him behind his eyelids.

He slowly lets his eyes flutter open, blinking a few times to adjust to the afternoon sun filtering in from the window. Once they do, he looks at Em who is staring back down at him with warmth and adoration that washes over him.

“You’re so good, Col, such a good boy for me… Such a _pretty_ boy for me.” A sob wracks through Colson so suddenly it’s almost painful. He pulls off Em’s dick and falls limply face first into Em’s hips as he comes completely unexpected. He’d barely been touching himself, but hearing that from Em, hearing _that_ word, and seeing all the love Em has for him was too much. Colson’s hand around his dick goes completely limp and he fucks into the air as the last few drops of cum dribble out of him.

Through all of his orgasm, Colson is sobbing into Em’s hip while the older man cradles the back of his head and whispers something he can’t hear over his drumming heartbeat.

“So good, baby, so good…” He’s finally able to make out what Em’s been saying after a few heavy breaths.

“Say it again.” Colson pants weakly against Em’s hip.

“So good to me… So good…”

“No… Say…” Colson swallows thickly, “Say I’m pretty.” There’s a pregnant pause. He feels Em looking down at him, but he can’t make himself look up.

After waiting a minute, Em kneels in front of Colson so that they’re mostly level again. Then he brings his hands to either side of Colson’s face and holds his head just as Colson had done to him a few minutes ago. He forces Colson to look at him.

“You’re so fucking pretty, Colson. Prettiest boy I’ve ever fucking seen. I love you so much, pretty boy.” It’s a good thing Colson never really stopped crying, or that would’ve sent him over the edge again, instead his occasional trickle breaks back into a stream.

Em can be a dick, testy and rude and a fucking prick, but he can also be like this. He can make Colson feel pretty and loved and so well taken care of that Colson comes from just hearing the word ‘pretty’ coming out of his mouth.

That’s why Colson feel sure enough around him to be soft, and to let his mind go as far up and away as it is now.

They stay on the floor together for a while, eventually ending up sitting on the closet floor with Em’s back pressed against the mirror and Colson’s still dress clad back pressed against Em’s chest.

“The dress really does look nice, babe. You look very pretty.” Em says softly into Colson’s hair.

Colson smiles lightly and nuzzles back into him, trying to ignore the naggling thought growing in his head. The voice that usually only comes when he’s alone. The one that tells him he’s not good enough. ‘You’re a fucking freak’ it says, ‘an insecure piece of shit crossdresser’ it sneers, ‘you’re going to deserve it when he finally leaves’ it hisses. The thought of Em leaving makes Colson’s breath come quicker and quicker. He can’t bare the fucking thought.

Em must feel him tense up because he uses his fingers to gently turn Colson’s face toward him. Colson twists away, determined not to cry anymore in front of Em, he’s done enough for the night.

“Baby, you still with me? What’s goin’ on?” Colson just shakes his head and moves to pull away and get up from Em’s hold. Before he can fully stand, Em grabs him and pulls him back down.

“Colson, what the fuck is going on? I thought you liked that shit. I thought you wanted to be…” Em trails off.

“I do! I want…” Colson struggles to find the right words through his embarrassment. “I want to be pretty but shit, it’s fucking weird, right? All the dresses and panties and the being called pretty; it’s not fucking normal. I bet you think I’m a fucking freak, huh?”

“Of course I think you’re a fucking freak.” Colson winces, but Em is grinning, “I know you’re a fucking freak and I fucking love it. You think you’re weird because you wear some fucking thongs and a dress? What the fuck does that make me for wanting to see you wearing the fucking thongs and dresses?” Colson searches Em’s face for any sign of insincerity, but finds none.

It doesn’t clear up his anxiety about it, or the voice that quiets when Em is around but never completely shuts off, but it does enough. Enough that he feels comfortable crawling into Em’s open lap and pressing his face into his neck just to fill his lungs with him.

He wants to fill all of the space between each of his atoms with Em until they are physically, spiritually, anatomically inseparable.

“I fucking love you.” He says into Em’s neck.

“I fucking love you, too.”

Slowly, Colson starts to rock his hips down onto Em’s while keeping his face buried in Em’s neck. He’s still soft from coming only a few minutes ago, but Em never got his release. Even though he’s softened some, Colson knows he’ll be ready to go in no time.

Neither of them says anything as Colson starts rocking his hips faster and faster, gasping every time the slick head of Em’s dick rubs against his taint.

“You don’t gotta do this, babe. You just had a pretty intense come down.” Em looks at Colson like he might break him, Colson looks back and challenges him to try.

“I uh, fuck!” He’s been steadily getting harder with every rock down and now Colson is hard enough to feel the sensitive head of his dick rub against his skirt again, making him gasp, “Em I want to, fuck, I want to so bad.”

“Yeah? How bad?” He’s joking, but Colson plays into it anyway.

“So bad, babe, I need you in me so bad.” He grinds down faster and harder to prove his point. He keeps going until he’s almost fully hard again and everything feels so good, even the overstimulation that borders on painful.

“If you want it so bad, you gotta work for it.” Em says dismissively, but he couldn’t hide the aroused edge in his voice if he tried. Really, both of them know that with one orgasm under his belt already, Colson needs this a lot less than Em does, but it’s all part of the roles they play together.

“Fuck me.” Colson whispers and licks a stripe from Em’s neck to his ear.

“Ride me.” Em says back.

They’re basically there already. Em’s dick is sliding wetly between his cheeks, it would only take a little positioning and he could be inside. Colson rises back to his knees and positions himself on top of Em’s hard dick. He’s bracing himself for the first breach of Em’s cock when a gentle on his hip stops him.

He looks up at Em and raises an eyebrow.

“Lube.” Em answers. Colson shakes his head and starts to move again, but this time the hand is firmer, gripping the skin and bone of his hip. Em stares at him hard, daring Colson to defy him.

“We didn’t fuck yesterday. I don’t want you in any pain. Grab the fuckin’ lube.”

Without any argument or cheeky defiance, Colson scrambles off Em’s lap and back into the main bedroom. There’s no real rush, but he still is almost running to grab the lube from the nightstand and get back to where he was with Em.

When he gets back to the closet, Em has finally fully taken off his pants and is sitting against the mirror, stroking his dick slowly and watching Colson with hungry eyes.

Colson throws him the lube as he approaches and grins when Em jerks to catch it. More confident than he’s been all day, Colson stands between Em’s parted legs, then kicks them further open before lowering himself down onto his lap again.

“Open me up, old man.” He grins when he settles down. Em rolls his eyes, but flips the cap of the lube open without comment at the nickname. He coats a few fingers before tossing the lube aside. They do this often enough that Colson doesn’t need much prep.

Honestly, he probably would’ve been fine without it. Em, however, is always more worried about hurting Colson than Colson is about getting hurt. Not just in the bedroom, either. Em takes care of him in ways Colson would never dream of taking care of himself like reminding him to eat and sleep right, wear his seatbelt, and to always start opening himself up with just one finger even if he thinks he can handle two.

He easily slips in one finger, Colson’s body letting him in without any coaxing. Colson can’t hold himself back, and before the finger is fully in him, he’s shoving his hips down on it and begging for a second. He wants Em too bad to spend this much time on getting him ready. He was born ready and he’ll die ready for Em.

“You’re greedy tonight, huh, baby?” Em plunges in a second finger like a jab, moving just as quickly as they both need.

“Need it.” It’s the only words Colson can make himself say. His breath was taken by Em giving him another finger and he’s still chasing it to get it back. He’ll never be able to say exactly how much he needs it, there simply isn’t enough air in the universe.

“Oh I know you do.”

Em works in a third finger quickly, luckily for Colson. He’s on the brink of tears again, especially with Em deliberately brushing but not massaging his prostate.

“Fuck me. Please, Em. I need it. I need you.” Colson cries. He needs Em. He needs him to have and to hold and to fuck just like this.

“You think you’re ready, baby?”

“Yes, Em, baby, baby, please don’t tease.” The tear he’d been trying to keep in finally falls free when Em removes his fingers from Colson. The emptiness makes him wince, but the anticipation makes him shiver.

“You ready?” Em asks one last time. Colson nods. They look at each other for a moment.

Colson wants to look away, Em’s gaze is always so intense, but he doesn’t. He holds his twitchy hips still and just looks into Em’s eyes while their body heat and breath mingle. He stares at Em and Em stares back and their hearts beat rapidly together.

Colson can’t help the tears that start coming faster. He hasn’t cried this much in one day since before he can remember, but it’s all been so overwhelming.

“Hey, hey, Col, you’re alright.” Em soothes him by running a hand down each of his sides, pressing delicately into the fabric of the dress. Colson nods, wipes the tears off his face, and starts to bare down. He takes everything, every inch of Em, until his ass is flush with Em’s hips and they’re connected in more ways than he can count.

Here, this close to Em, is the only time Colson ever really feels whole. It stings somewhere in him, that he can’t be whole alone, but it’s placated by Colson knowing Em isn’t going anywhere. He can’t, not with Colson’s body weight keeping him pinned on the ground and Colson’s heart pressed tightly to his own. Colson belongs to Em so completely that Em belongs to him too.

With that thought, Colson starts to move, lifting and pushing back and reveling in Em’s thrusts up every time he pulls far enough up that only the head of Em’s dick is still in him. He feels the power he has over Em in this moment, and the love Em has for him.

“I fucking love you.” Em spits on a particularly harsh thrust down. Colson’s been chasing his prostate, but Em’s voice works just as well to bring him to the brink. He speeds up until the sound of skin slapping is obscene, and then goes faster.

“Em… Marshall… Baby… Baby… Love you too, fuck!” He screams when Em’s hands slip inside of his dress again and pinch both of his nipples at once.

“You close, babe?” Em smirks. Colson wants to smack the smug grin off his face, instead he just nods.

“Mhm.”

“Coming for me twice in one night without me laying a hand on your pretty pink dick? I must be good.” Em laughs, but his cheeks are rosy, and his hips are starting to stutter between Colson’s thighs, so he knows he’s just as close.

“Ngh… You’re alright.”

“I’m there, I’m right fucking there.” Colson didn’t need to hear it from Em, the hip twitching was enough of a tell.

“Me too.” Colson’s knees fucking burn and his heart is beating so fast he’s wondering how much more of a pounding his ribcage can take before it breaks, but still he keeps bouncing, chasing both his and Em’s end. “Touch me, Em.”

“I am.” Em says and pinches Colson’s nipples again in reminder.

“Fuck you. Yank my fucking dick ‘til I come all over you and my skirt, old man… Shit, is that what you wanted to hear?” Em doesn’t respond, just grabs Colson’s chin harshly with one hand and kisses him. It’s more tongue and spit than lips, but he doesn’t give a shit. With his other hand, Em reaches down between them and starts to jerk Colson, though he doesn’t get in more than three pulls before Colson’s vision is whiting out and he’s coming for a second time that night.

He keeps bouncing through his orgasm, even when his arms fall limply to his sides and his jaw goes slack as Em kisses him. His throbbing knees go numb and his hearing goes static as Em grabs his hips to start guiding him up and down on his dick until he’s spilling his own load into Colson.

Colson’s knees finally go out on him and he collapses into Em’s lap, stuffed with Em’s hot cum and slowly softening cock. On his way down, Colson catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looks wrecked. He looks ruined. He looks totally fucked out and debauched. With kiss swollen lips, pupils blown wide, and shoulders heaving with every breath, he looks incredible.

Colson thinks, with his hair plastered to his forehead and his stained dress sticking to his sweaty skin; He looks sated.

Em’s arms circle protectively around his waist, crushing Colson’s lithe frame into his own.

He looks pretty. 

**Author's Note:**

> my first emgk fic! i randomly stumbled on this paring and have been obsessed for a few weeks, not really getting involved, but this plot wouldn't leave me alone so i finally had to write it. Anyway! comments and kudos are greatly appreciated, and hit me up on tumblr @zwowow if u wanna talk these dysfunctional bfs.


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